


Too Daze Gone

by Grinder1833



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bottom Sam, Episode Tag, Episode: s10e09 The Things We Left Behind, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mark of Cain, Rimming, Season/Series 10, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 17:43:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2820752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grinder1833/pseuds/Grinder1833
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After finding Dean surrounded by blood and dead bodies, Sam brings Dean back to the bunker where he can take care of him and make sure that the darkness doesn’t return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Daze Gone

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** Angst which shouldn’t come as a surprise since these are the Winchesters.
> 
>  **Spoilers:** Through S10E09 – The Things We Left Behind
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I don’t own these characters. They are property of “Supernatural,” Warner Bros. Television and Kripke Enterprises.
> 
>  
> 
>  **A/N:** This is unbeta’d, all mistakes are my own. This will most likely get blown out of the water when the show resumes in Janauary.

Chaos reigned inside the Impala as Sam sped away from Randy’s house, away from the blood and carnage. Claire hadn’t stopped screaming and sobbing since Cas dragged her from the house. The hysteria grated on Sam’s last nerve. The crying in the backseat made it difficult to concentrate. Sam needed to clear his head and fucking think. He had to get them as far away from that house as possible—preferably in one piece, but most importantly Sam had to focus on Dean.

“Cas, can’t you get her to shut up?” Sam caught Cas’s shell-shocked reflection in the rearview mirror.

“She just lost the closest thing she’s had to a family. Randy might not have been the most upstanding individual, but he was the only father figure she’s had in years,” Cas calmly replied.

“It’s an unfortunate situation, but I can’t fucking think with her howling in the backseat.” Sam knew first hand how terrible it was to have your family destroyed. Any other time he’d try to help Claire deal. Sam had his own problem right now—Dean. And Sam needed to fucking figure out his next step and fast.

“Sam.” Cas all but pleaded with him to understand that he couldn’t just use some angel mojo to make it all better.

Sam tore his eyes from the mirror and focused on the road in search of a motel. The sooner he could get Cas and Claire out of the car so he could take care of Dean, who didn’t seem to be doing so well, the better. Dean hadn’t uttered a word since Sam hauled him out of the house. His brother sat in the passenger’s seat stone faced and covered in blood. There was so much fucking blood. Sam doubted any of it was Dean’s, which was a chilling thought. 

Sam placed his hand on Dean’s thigh. “Dean,” Sam said in a low voice. “You with me?” 

“Sorry…sorry…” Dean quietly chanted.

Sam didn’t care that they weren’t alone. He needed Dean to know he was there and somehow they’d get through this latest wrinkle. He gave Dean’s thigh a reassuring squeeze. “It’s going to be okay. I’ve got you.” He left his hand on Dean’s leg and hoped his touch would keep Dean calm.

Ahead on the left, Sam spotted a motel – The Chilton Inn, which looked like anything but a cozy inn. Sam didn’t care if it was a campground at this point, because he needed to get Cas and Claire out of the car. 

“What are you doing?” Cas asked as Sam pulled into the motel and parked the car in front of the office. 

Sam shifted the Impala into park, draped his arm across the seat, and turned to face Cas. Claire huddled next to Cas. Her face was stained with tears. Sam’s heart went out to her. Claire had been through hell. Cas needed to get her someplace safe where she could properly grieve. “Dropping you and Claire off.” 

“I need to—” 

“You need to look after Claire.”

“Yes, get me out of here!” Claire opened the door and scrambled into the parking lot. “Get me away from that monster!” 

Sam wanted to tell her that Dean wasn’t a monster, that this was one big cluster fuck, but he couldn’t get the words to come out. 

Cas leaned closer to Sam. “You can’t pretend that he didn’t murder those people,” he hissed.

“I’m taking my brother home. You’re going to look after Claire, make sure she doesn’t go to the police. Do you have money for the room?” 

“Yes, I got my wallet back from Claire, but the Mark—” 

“Go, Cas! I can handle this.” 

“I’ll be in touch,” Cas said before getting out of the car. 

As soon as the car door slammed shut, Sam put the Impala in gear and tore out of the parking lot, not bothering to wait to make sure Cas was able to get a room. The Vacancy sign was on so it shouldn’t be an issue. Sam brushed his fingers against the nape of Dean’s neck. “Everything is going to be all right, Dean. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” 

Dean mutely nodded. His hands were clenched into fists on his lap. 

“I’ll get you cleaned up. You can get some rest—maybe something to eat. There’s bread and cheese left. I can make you another one of those grilled cheese sandwiches.” Sam talked a mile a minute. He wasn’t even sure if Dean was listening, but it didn’t matter. Sam needed to fill the silence with something. Maybe his babbling kept Dean’s mind from going to a very dark place. Music might also help. Sam turned on the radio and the cassette they’d been listening to on the way to Pontiac played _Ramble On_ by Led Zeppelin which is one of Dean’s favorite songs. 

“You can sleep if you want to.” Sam cast a quick glance in Dean’s direction. Dean still hadn’t moved an inch since he first shoved him in the car. “I promise not to put a scratch on your baby.” 

Dean shook his head. “Not tired.” 

“Okay. We can stop once we cross the Missouri border if you need to eat or whatever. Just let me know.” 

Dean didn’t say anything. Sam pressed down on the accelerator, hoping that he’d have a little luck on his side and avoid the police. They were long overdue for a break.

********

Sam was grateful to be home with the Impala parked safely in the bunker's garage. Dean had been quiet for the entire trip. Sam thought he might have fallen asleep, but whenever he glanced over at his brother, Dean was rigid in his seat, staring out the window. After a couple of hours of rambling, Sam finally gave up and focused on getting them back to the bunker in one piece without encountering any cops.

At least Dean had the presence of mind to get out of the car. Dean stumbled through the garage in a trance-like state, leaving a trail of bloody footprints in his wake. Sam managed to cut him off at the pass before he could enter the bunker.

“Hey, let’s get you out of your boots first.” Sam kept his voice calm and soft as he knelt down in front of Dean. He unlaced Dean’s boots, expecting Dean to protest that he didn’t need to be babied, but Dean kept quiet. Dean was worse off than Sam had originally thought. Sam stood up after Dean’s boots were off and set to the side. “Can you take off your coat too?” The less bloody things in the bunker the better. 

Dean stared at Sam for a moment. His eyes were glassy and vacant. Just as Sam was about to help him, Dean slowly nodded and removed his coat. Sam kicked off his boots and left his coat with Dean’s in a pile on the garage floor. 

“I bet a hot shower would feel good, hun?” Sam guided Dean inside. “I know I could use one—get the road crud off me.” _And the blood_ , he silently added. 

Dean didn’t say anything, just allowed Sam to steer him wherever he wanted without a fight. Stepford Dean scared the shit out of him. Sam couldn’t remember the last time his brother was so fucking lost. 

Sam deposited Dean in the bathroom. “Do you need help getting the rest of your clothes off?” 

Dean shook his head, not all that convincingly, but it was enough that Sam decided he could be left alone for a few minutes while he got a some items from the bedroom. Sam stripped out of his clothes while he was in Dean’s room. He left them in a pile in the corner, which on any other day would have Dean bitching about his mess, but Sam doubted that he’d even notice. Sam grabbed the bathrobe Dean loved and headed back to the bathroom, not bothering with any clothes for himself. 

When he returned to the steam-filled bathroom, he found Dean standing under the shower, head bowed, arms at his sides. Dean would probably stand there until the water ran cold and try to drown himself if Sam didn’t step in. Sam grabbed a couple of towels from the linen closet and hung them along with the robe on the hooks near the shower. Then he stepped behind Dean underneath the spray.

“Dean.” Sam touched Dean’s shoulder which caused Dean to spin around. Dean's fists were clenched and ready to attack. Sam held up his hands. “Hey…hey…it’s just me.” 

Dean blinked at him with water droplets dripping from his long lashes. “Sorry, Sammy.” 

“It’s okay.” Sam reached for the soap. “May I?” 

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to, Dean.” 

Dean nodded with his eyes fixed on Sam’s hands. Sam worked the soap up into a lather and rubbed it over Dean’s chest. The tension radiated off Dean’s body in waves. Sam needed to get him to relax, because it felt like Dean could snap at any moment. He noticed the bruise on Dean’s abdomen and the cut along his hairline. 

“Did they attack you?” Sam gently prodded.

“Rocky Balboa got a couple of licks in before…” Dean looked away from Sam.

So Dean hadn’t gone all Anakin Skywalker on their asses. He was provoked. Dean needed to defend himself against those thugs. This news should make him feel better, but what Sam saw in that house looked more like a slaughter. He wished he could forget what he'd seen, but it would be forever burned into his brain. 

Sam brushed his fingers through Dean’s hair and sought out the cut. “It doesn’t look like you’ll need stitches.” 

“Great, I’d hate to mess up this gorgeous mug.” 

“It would take a lot to do that.” Sam rubbed his soapy hands along Dean’s biceps. When Sam’s hand neared the Mark, Dean stepped away from him. 

Dean snorted. “Are you about done? I’m starting to turn into a prune.”

Dean’s reluctance to allow Sam to touch the Mark was troubling, but Sam wasn’t going to dwell on it at the moment. Dean’s eyes were still green and his sense of humor was returning. Both gave Sam hope the worst had past. “Clean as a whistle.” 

Sam quickly washed himself while Dean grabbed one of the towels and dried off. Instead of putting on the robe, Dean wrapped the towel around his waist. Sam frowned. Dean was obsessed with the Men of Letters robe. He’d never forget the day that Dean discovered it and wore it the entire day because he thought it was so awesome.

“I brought you your robe,” Sam called over to him as he wrapped the towel around his waist.

“I don’t deserve to wear it after what I did.” 

“We’re legacies,” Sam reminded him.

“I’m a monster.” 

That’s it. Sam needed to try to get through to Dean. “You’re not a monster.” 

“How can you say that?” 

“How can I not?”

“That wasn’t you back there in Pontiac.” Sam yanked Dean’s bathrobe from the hook on the wall. “It’s the fucking Mark! We’ve been over this! Now put on the fucking robe and let’s go to bed!” He thrust it at Dean, who took it without a word. Dean dropped the towel. He shook his head as he put on the robe.

Dean stalked out of the bathroom with Sam hot on his heels. Sam was afraid Dean might do something stupid or self-destructive. And Sam wasn’t quite sure how much the Mark affected Dean at the moment. Was it demanding more? Was it satisfied with the bloody sacrifces? 

The second Dean was in the bedroom the robe was on the floor and Dean got into bed. Sam tossed his towel to the floor as Dean reached over and turned off the lamp on the nightstand. The room plummeted into blackness. Sam navigated through the room to the bed as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

“You sure you want to sleep in here?” Dean asked as Sam lay down next to him.

“You’re not going to get rid of me.” Sam propped his head up on his elbow. He could make out Dean lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. 

“Cas was supposed to kill me if I went dark side again.” 

Sam’s first instinct was to shake Dean and demand how he could suggest such a thing, but he the answer to the question was obvious. Dean knew Sam would never agree to such a ridiculous request. Sam swallowed and took a minute to try to compose himself. “He’d have to get through me first.” 

“Sammy.” Dean’s voice was low and desperate. 

“I won’t let anyone hurt you, much less kill you. I don’t care who it is.”

“You may not have a choice.” 

“Dean—” 

The rest of Sam’s sentence was swallowed by Dean’s tongue sliding into his mouth. Dean was on top of him lightning quick kissing him and grinding his hips into Sam’s. Sam could feel Dean’s erection pressing against his groin. 

“Need you.” Dean snaked his fingers through Sam’s hair. “Need you so bad.” 

“Whatever you want.” Sam licked Dean’s neck. “You want me to fuck you? You want to fuck me?” 

“You…want to crawl up inside you and disappear.” 

Sam thought it sounded like the best idea ever. He’d keep Dean safe and sane. No one else could touch him. “Yes.” He was already blindly reaching toward the nightstand drawer where they kept a stash of condoms and lube, but it was difficult to reach with Dean on top of him. 

“I’ve got it.” Dean shifted off Sam to get the supplies, which he placed next to them on the mattress. But Dean seemed to freeze, one leg still draped over Sam’s, his body only partially covering Sam’s. 

Sam cupped Dean’s face. “What is it?” 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Dean whispered. 

“You won’t.” 

“What if I lose control? You saw what I’m capable of. If anything were to happen to you because of something I did.” Dean’s voice was with think with emotion. His eyes brimmed with tears.

“I trust you, Dean.”

“You shouldn’t. Haven’t I shown you by now that I’m a selfish bastard? That I only care about myself?” 

“Not true.” Sam thumbed away the single tear that trickled down Dean’s cheek. “You’ve always put me first. You’ve sacrificed your own needs to save others. I trust that you can control yourself. I trust you with my life.”

Dean shook his head and tried to roll away from Sam, but Sam caught his arm to stop him from getting away. “Sammy, let go.” 

Sam held firm. “Never.” He pulled Dean on top of him. “Now I believe you were going to make love to me.” 

Sam fully expected Dean to call him a big girl for saying “make love” instead of “fuck” but he didn’t. Instead, he traced Sam’s tattoo with his tongue, which never failed to make Sam’s toes curl. 

Sam was pissed as hell at Dean when he’d gotten re-inked, because he shouldn’t even have had to go through that process again, but thanks to Dean’s shitty choices Cas had to remove the original one. Sam could have had the tattoo artist put the new one anywhere. And he was tempted to for like half a second as a fuck you to Dean, because having the original tats close to their hearts was Dean’s suggestion. Dean confessed after drinking way too much whiskey that he wanted Sam to keep him close to his heart forever. Sam agreed as long as Dean did the same hence the matching tattoos. Besides guarding them against demon possession, the tattoos became their version a commitment ring—not that either of them came out and said as much. Ultimately Sam chose to have the tattoo put back in its original spot, because he still loved Dean even when he'd been furious with him for the angel possession. Sam would never forget the hope in Dean’s eyes when he first noticed it. 

Sam rubbed circles on Dean’s back as Dean lovingly worshiped Sam’s body with soft, gentle kisses from his chest down to his stomach. It was difficult to believe this was the same man who had killed those men back in Pontiac in mere minutes. 

_It wasn’t Dean. It was the Mark,_ Sam reminded himself. 

Dean dragged his tongue along Sam’s treasure trail. He liked where this was heading, because having Dean’s mouth wrapped around his dick was heaven—well at least one of Sam’s definitions of heaven. But Dean bypassed his dick. He slipped his hands underneath Sam’s ass and tilted it up.

_Oh._

Dean lapping at his hole was better than heaven. Sam loved it when Dean rimmed him. Dean certainly has come a long way from the first time he did this to Sam. That night Dean had drank half a bottle of whiskey before he took on the task. But it was the only time Dean ever needed to get drunk to do it. Dean hummed happily as he tongued Sam’s hole. The sounds Dean made were the same ones he made when he ate pie. And Dean fucking loved his pie.

“Fuck, Dean,” Sam groaned.

Dean lifted his head long enough to flash him a wicked smile before returning to his delicious torture of Sam’s hole. Sam hadn’t expected this tonight. He thought maybe Dean might suck his dick for a little bit before fucking him fast and hard. 

_Fuckity…fuck…fuck._

Sam was liable to come from Dean’s talented tongue. Dean must have sensed this, because he stopped and crawled back up Sam’s body. 

“Love tasting you, Sammy,” Dean breathed into Sam’s ear as he reached for the condom and lube. Dean’s voice was as smooth as the finest whiskey. Moments like this made it hard to believe that Dean could be so lethal. “And now I’m going to fuck you—nice and slow. Is that what you want?”

“Yeah.” Sam spread his legs wider. Fast, slow—he didn’t really care. All Sam wanted was Dean inside of him. _Now_.

Dean flipped the cap on the lube and squeezed an ample amount onto his fingers. Sam tried to be patient while Dean fingered Sam. He made sure to repeatedly rub his prostate. 

“ _Dean._ ” 

“All right…all right…such a pushy bottom.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Not this time, princess.” 

Normally Sam would have come up with some smart-ass comeback, but he was happy Dean was acting like _Dean_. He didn’t seem like he was hanging onto his humanity by a thread. Sam tried not to think that this was a fleeting thing. 

Dean tore open the foil wrapper and then rolled the condom on his cock. Dean’s eyes met his and searched them to see if Sam wanted to change his mind. No fucking way was Sam’s silent response. 

Sam focused on Dean’s eyes as Dean pushed in and breached the tight ring of muscle. Even in the darkened room Sam could tell they were still green—not that he expected them to turn inky black. Dean wasn’t a demon. He wouldn't Hulk out on him. 

Dean fucked him slowly. Sam expected it to turn into their usual frantic rhythm, because it always did, even when they tried to take their time and make it last. But Dean kept it slow, which was driving Sam crazy in the most delicious way. He hooked his ankles around Dean’s waist. Sam tried to draw him in deeper. This was awesome, but Sam needed more. 

“Dean.” Sam rocked against Dean, hoping he’d get the hint that he wanted it harder. Screw making love and nice and slow—he wanted to be able to feel Dean inside when he woke up in the morning. “Come on, Dean. Harder.” 

“Sam.” The hesitation in Dean’s voice was undeniable. 

Sam squeezed Dean’s ass. “Please…need it.” 

Dean’s thrusts stuttered for a moment, before he picked up the pace. Yes…this was what he needed now. Sam wanted to come. And then he wanted to wrap Dean in his arms and never let go. 

Sam reached for his dick, but Dean smacked it away because Dean always liked to be the one who made Sam come. Dean wrapped his hand around Sam’s dick and pumped it in time with his thrusts. 

“You gonna come for me, Sammy?”

Dean always made sure Sam came before him if he topped, because Dean loved seeing him get off. While Dean hated “chick flick moments” and tried to avoid words of endearment like the plague, Dean was fucking awesome at expressing his love for Sam through sex. 

“Close,” Sam gasped.

“Me too…feel so fucking good…could stay inside you forever.”

And that was it. Sam came hard, shooting all over Dean’s hand and Dean followed, moaning and cursing loudly. It was fucking perfect. Dean carefully pulled out and tossed the condom god only knows where while Sam reached for some tissues to clean up the mess. 

“Told you that you wouldn’t hurt me.” Sam passed a couple of tissues over to Dean.

Dean wiped his hands and threw the tissues onto this floor. “Probably reached my quota for the day.” 

“Dean.”

Dean turned his back to him and burrowed underneath the blankets. “Go to sleep, Sam.”

Like hell he’d just go to sleep. Sam pressed against Dean’s back. He wrapped his arms around him and held him tight. “Tell me what happened back there.”

“You saw what happened. I fucking snapped.”

“But you were provoked.” Sam held onto the belief that it was self-defense, that Dean did what he had to do to survive. Kill or be killed. Sam tried to forget that everyone in that house had been slaughtered. “Your life was on the line, right?” 

“We don't kill humans. Even when those crazy hillbillies kidnapped you I didn't shoot first and ask questions later. Dad always taught us to protect people, not kill them. Thank God he's not around to see me now.”

“Don’t say that.” Sam knew Dean had always craved their father’s approval and when he’d get it Dean would be on a high for days. Their father being ashamed of Dean would gut him. 

“The things I’ve done—he’d be spinning in his grave if he had one.”

Sam kissed the back of Dean’s neck. He needed to keep Dean out of the gallows, away from the darkness. “Stop it. You’ve done more good than anyone I know. You stopped the fucking apocalypse.” 

“No, I started it. You jumped into the pit and stopped it.”

Damn Dean and his technicalities. “We both had our part in starting and stopping it. You could’ve said yes to Michael, but you kept telling Zachariah to go fuck himself. And you were hunting things and saving people while I was at Stanford. You’ve been doing good as long as I can remember.” 

“I’m sure Dad would be thrilled with our little situation here.”

“That we protect and love each other? Yeah…he’d be real pissed.” 

“You know damn well what I mean.” Dean struggled to escape from Sam’s embrace, but he held on tightly. Dean wouldn't get away from him. 

Of course, Dean had to bring up the incest card. Sam thought Dean had gotten over that one a long time ago. But, then again, Dean never really gets over things. He compartmentalizes and moves on. Even though Sam was the one who made all the moves in the beginning, Dean still feels like he was the one who lured Sam into this tawdry relationship.

“We’re both consenting adults who went into this with their eyes wide open.” Sam stroked Dean’s arm, hoping to calm him. “What we do in the bedroom is no one else’s business. I have no regrets and I don’t intend on giving you up or letting you go.” 

“It felt good killing them,” Dean quietly admitted. “Better than the finest steak, top shelf whiskey, and even better than sex.” Sam stilled. “It’s only a matter of time before I snap again and when I do I don’t know if I can come back from it. I was so close from being swallowed up again…I can’t…” Dean’s voice cracked.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut to try to stop the tears from falling. Dean was truly hanging on by a thread and he had jack shit as to how to get rid of the Mark. There had to be someone out there that knew of a way.

Maybe Metatron…

Metatron has read all of the books in the world. He would know. Sam needed to get him to talk. Cas had to know where Metatron was being held. San would convince Cas to take him to Metatron.

“Just hang on for me, Dean.” Sam kissed Dean’s head. “Please…don’t give up. I’ll save you. I promise.” 

“I’ll try,” Dean whispered.

Sam may have failed to get Dean out of his Hell deal, but he wouldn’t fail again. He’d find a way to save his brother.


End file.
